Waiting is Always the Hard Part
by DinerGuy
Summary: As the scene unfolds, oblivious to the willingness of its players, all they can do is hope and wait.


The first paragraph here was originally a simple illustration in a writing thread, upon which I was then commanded to expand. It's about five months late, but here it is!

Thanks to veggiewoppa and Starphyer for looking it over. I think we caught all the glaring errors ...

Disclaimer: If you can recognize it, it's not mine ...

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Juliet watched as her partner paced the waiting room. His face was firm and set, his eyes fixed steadily on the floor, unwilling to let anyone in. But she knew. She knew how much this not knowing was hurting him. For all the times he complained about the psychic consultant, he never wanted Shawn to be in this kind of situation.

Her eyes soon tired of following him back and forth, slipping closed of their own accord. She was jerked awake by the feeling of her head falling to her chest, and she blinked, looking around in that haze that comes from being caught between sleep and awareness.

A glance at the clock on the wall told her it had been over an hour since they'd arrived. They were all running on fumes already, their days and even some of their nights occupied with the case that had come to a head that night.

When Mario Rodriguez had run. When they had chased him to the warehouse. When rounds from the stolen handgun had begun ripping through the crates around them.

Swallowing involuntarily, she remembered diving for cover, attempting to get a bead on the shooter. Seeing her partner doing the same across the way. And then realizing Shawn wasn't there.

It had only taken a moment to put things together, to realize where he had gone. Lassiter had come to the same conclusion just then, growling in frustration. His sigh of, "Spencer …" was cut off by a quick succession of shots, followed by the sounds of a scuffle.

The partners had carefully hurried towards the grunts and bumps coming from the other side of the room, almost positive of what they would find.

They had been right. And now they were waiting. Waiting for a doctor to come and tell them it would all be all right. That the consultant – their friend – was going to be all right. That there had only been minimal damage and that Shawn would be back to normal in a few days.

Gus and Henry had joined them shortly after they had taken up their posts on the hard plastic chairs. The looks on the two newcomers' faces gave away everything, although Gus' was much easier to read. But there was no denying the worry any of them felt at the moment, no denying the tense feeling each of them had in their stomachs.

Before anyone could process things further, the door at the far end of the room swung open. All heads swung towards it. Parents, siblings, friends, spouses, all waiting for news of a loved one lifted their heads. Some were quick, some were a little slow, but they all were alert for the sound of a familiar name.

When the doctor called for the family of Shawn Spencer, everyone else sunk back in their chairs, some a little more despondent than they had been a moment before. Some looked more resigned to what was to come, that their friend or relative had been in the unknown too long, that they felt in their hearts that that person was never returning.

"Here," Henry called, breaking the relative silence that had controlled the small group until now.

The four rose to meet the doctor, attempting to read his blank expression, wondering if he brought good news or devastating.

His news brought a grim smile to their faces. Lassiter and Henry both looked much more relaxed than they had a few moments before, and somehow Gus and Juliet ended up in a slightly unprofessional embrace of shared happiness.

Shawn wasn't in ICU, so they were all allowed to continue their vigil in his room, which they didn't hesitate to accept. They would be there when he awoke, waiting for him. The thought to leave now that they knew he was fine never crossed anyone's mind.

After all, Shawn was family – even if certain members of their group wouldn't admit that he was anything more than an annoying second cousin.


End file.
